Shattered
by Aozoran
Summary: A late night call brings hope to all sides.


**Author's Note: I found this little story floating around my fanfic folders. XD And I thought I would share this little bundle of scenes between Ratchet and First Aid with you all. A little possibility amongst everything else.**

**Disclaimer: Own nothing?**

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><p>Lips pressed together slightly as First Aid leaned in closer, examining the badly damaged circuitry with a critical optic, his fingers carefully turning it over under the intense glare of the small lamp. The sound of someone behind him almost made him drop the circuit held delicately in one hand, his bright optics wide at the sound of the voice behind him. Spinning, his slender frame quivered slightly, large blue optics wide behind the protective visor, his hand pressed against the edge of the bench, his entire frame trembling ever so slightly in fear.<p>

"Hey... 'Aid." Blaster was pausing almost mid-step at the look on the slender medic's features, suddenly feeling as if he had just kicked Ravage and Soundwave was coming after him in a rage. "I didn't mean ta startle yah..."

First Aid set his work down on the bench, both hands gripping the edge of the bench just behind him, swallowing and glancing away from Blaster. "Its alright, no harm done. Please... use the announcement..."

"I did, several times."

Pale blue optics widened a touch more, slender shoulders shivering ever so slightly, head dipping in utter embarrassment over what had happened. "I apologise... I was distracted."

"More than that, Medi-bot." Blaster stretched out a hand to lightly touch one of those quivering shoulders and watched the usually cheerful medic flinch away as if struck. "Hey... hey what's the matter?" Catching an elbow before the bot decided to pull away any further, attempting to keep him still and meet that pretty gaze with his own. The crimson mech could understand the feeling of being touched by others, after the violent attack that had had him sprawled out for a full orn in this very medbay. "Yah're jumpier than Red Alert with a logic glitch."

"Its nothing." The medic insisted softly, attempting to escape the grip on his arm, looking everywhere but at Blaster. Swallowing, his fingers were twitching ever so slightly, curling and uncurling.

"Aid. I owe yah quite a deal. All of us do."

This little medic had replaced Ratchet as their primary medic after Ratchet's 'death' alongside the others on the shuttle during Megatron's last battle before he became Galvatron. This was the mech who had never given up on working out some way to bring back some of those lost during the war and recovered from the wreckage of the destroyed Autobot Mausoleum. First Aid had worked tirelessly on it for years, finally making a new discovery about Cybertronian physiology from information gleaned from a damaged Quintesson ship.

"You owe me nothing, Blaster, I was only following my programming." Self-depreciating, the mech rang his fingers slightly, before managing to slip round the edge of the bench escaping to the safety of the tool laden benches. "I only wanted to prevent death wherever I could."

"What is the matter?" Blaster was not going to let it go, leaning against the bench where the mech had previously been working, a finger lightly nudging at the charred circuit that rested on the bench. "Aid, Dude, stay still for a moment and tell me."

"I... he..." Fingers curled slightly, twisting and twitching ever so slightly, before making a gesture and bounced on his pedes slightly clearly reluctant to say anything. "I do not... I do not like talking ill of another."

"Ah." Pausing for a moment, he suddenly had a rather good idea of what the problem was. Hook, the Decepticon medic was a particular thorn in the side of the Autobot medics, most of them finding him unbearable and his work lacking in particular areas. Though the Decepticon was a formidable medic, he was still a perfectionist and belittled any other medic that ever attempted to work with him and as currently the highest ranking medical officer appointed by Optimus Prime, it was down to First Aid to deal with the former Decepticon. "Hook given yah problems again?"

First Aid stared for a long minute at Blaster than down at the tools before him, shoulders crumpling and looking extremely uncertain. "I... I do not know what to do, Blaster, he is crass and an _extreme_ perfectionist. His work in some areas is the finest I've ever seen... but in others... he rarely provides sedatives or..." A small fist thumped hard against the bench, clearly angry over the fact. "He is brutal and has no respect for any other in this profession."

"Should tell Prime 'bout it."

"I couldn't... I simply couldn't, Blaster. Optimus Prime trusted me with my duties and with liaising with the former Decepticon forces, including with Hook. He is physically... abrasive."

"He _touched_ yah?" The mech was positively growling out the words, the thought of anyone using any kind of force against someone like First Aid was intolerable, this mech had always been the gentlest of sparks and one with the most compassion for others.

"I..." Staring at the table, he merely nodded. "Its okay... I was in his way."

"It ain't okay! No one has any right ta ever touch yah, Aid!" Fists clenched at his friend's obvious trouble, this was definitely not something he ever wanted to happen to the gentle mech. Maybe he should talk to Soundwave over it, that was probably be a good idea for now or even talk to Prime. "Aid, yah know yah can talk ta me, don'tcha?"

"Yes." Big blue optics lifted slightly, glancing at the other mech before looking distinctly uncertain. "Please don't tell anyone about Hook... please, Blaster. I'll... I'll work out something. I don't want to be any trouble."

A hand touched the little mech's shoulder lightly, rubbing across them lightly, hopeful that he would be able to offer some kind of comfort to the shaking little mech. "Yah not any trouble at all, Aid. Never have, never will be." Blaster only hoped that he would be able to do something and fast before Hook decided to do something more drastic.

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><p>"What?" Ratchet grumbled as he glanced back towards the Comm unit, his lips pressing together and let out a slightly irritated sigh at the distraction. "<em>What is it?<em>" His dark azure gaze narrowed as the image flickered and flashed up onto the screen, Blaster sat on the other end, making both optical ridges lift in response to his appearance. Pausing in what he was doing, he twisted slightly, elbow resting on the edge of his desk, staring at the screen that displayed the image.

"Hey yah Ratch', how yah goin'?" Blaster gave him a wide cheery smile, managing somehow to hold down the compulsion to wave at the rather grumpy faced medic on the other side of the transmission.

"I have no time for pleasantries." Fingers drummed lightly on the table, glancing back towards the mountains of the 'paperwork' that seemed to crowd his office. "State your business quickly, Blaster."

"Don't bite my aft, Ratchy. It concerns First Aid."

Immediately Ratchet froze, his lips pressing together sharply and swallowing visibly, his optical ridges pressing together even more, his hand gripped the edge of the desk. For once in his existence, the white hued medic felt his spark flutter slightly at the thought of the younger medic and swallowed around the lump of emotions that fluttered around inside of his spark, tormenting him with thoughts of the beautiful medic that had always been there whenever he had needed him. "What about him?"

"He _needs_ yah, Ratchet."

Ratchet snorted sharply, waving a wrench that had been weighing down a pile of 'papers' and datapads, definitely indicating that particular idea was not true. "First Aid is the most gifted medic the Autobots are yet to see." He would admit to Blaster just this once just how talented the younger medic was, Aid was the reason he was functioning and not floating off somewhere into the void like a rogue asteroid of scrap parts. "I doubt he needs..."

"Shut it, yah tin-plated aft." Blaster's cheery smile faded, clearly not about to argue over all the finer points of this. "He needs yah right now, Ratch. Yah didn't see 'im... shakin'... frightened like I did today."

Ratchet glanced around at the piles of paperwork and out through the windows at the patients resting in the darkened medical ward at Autobot City. The silence was deafening, every moment reminding that he was alone and had been for a very long time and without the soft voice of First Aid, his life had became nothing more than an emptiness filled with nothing but a handful of dreams. What could have frightened the younger medic? Cybertron was safe! "Tell me." He demanded, completely ignoring the mass of paperwork that needed his attention.

The moment the story had come out Blaster's mouth, Ratchet was on his pedes, angry flaring like an electro-blade from its sheath, his fists clenching. _Hook_, that self-righteous pile-driver of a Decepticon. However the reality remained that Ratchet was on Earth and getting leave was difficult at times for a medic, though if he did ask for it... who would take his place while he was gone? Pipes was a fair medic, but one that could not perform the needed repairs in case of a severe emergency, Hoist and Perceptor also had the same problem to a point.

"What do you wish _me_ to do?" The white and crimson medic dropped back into his chair that rocked under the sudden dump of weight across it. What could he do? His spark shuddered and ached painfully in his chassis, reminding him of the fact that he craved and desired nothing more than to be with the slender mech, fill in the aching void that was his life. However, Ratchet knew that his chances of winning over the slender beauty were next to nothing, that like all the other relationships he had had in his life, this too would end up being cracked because he couldn't be the mech others needed him to be.

"For one, _call_ him. Yah ever thought 'bout that one might be a good place ta start with him? Let 'im hear yahr voice." Blaster was leaning forwards slightly, his expression showing that he was keen on getting Ratchet to do something, anything. "Right now, I ain't what he needs, I don't even think Jazz could help 'im." And Jazz worked wonders with anyone and everyone. "And yah love him, that makes a big difference."

Ratchet jerked as if slapped. No one knew! No one could have known about _that_. He practically snarled at Blaster, the wrench striking a nearby wall with a heavy crack and crunch of metal, before it clattered to the floor. "You have gone to far to insinuate..."

"Talk ta 'im, Ratch, if not for 'im, than for yahrself." And Blaster turned off the link and the screen faded to black, leaving Ratchet alone and furious.

"Clever." Ratchet grumbled, fingers clenching as his hand slammed down against the desk, almost sending several piles of paperwork toppling, scattering a few sheets. Blaster had infuriated him, pushing all the buttons he had to get him worked up over the situation. Even though the mech had made less sense in his actions than the Dinobots, it was the right way to get him raging and wanting to throttle the likes of Hook. "Blasted... Blaster." For once his face pressed against his palm and even his rather good memory bank full of good insults failed him.

Fingers rubbed at the throbbing points between his optics, groaning softly, his lips pressing together after a moment, hoping that he was making the right decision. Shifting slightly, he was turning his attention back towards the dimmed screen, his hand nudging one of the piles out of the way and tapped in the Cybertronian code for the comm unit in First Aid's quarters, he had committed that to primary memory, anything to do with First Aid was there... so close to the surface. Ratchet just hoped... First Aid was home.

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><p>Sleepy pale blue optics blinked slightly behind his visor at that flashing indicator on the main comm unit set up against one wall of the sitting room, his features were damp from the long bath he had had, a towel wrapped tightly around his slender frame. Who would be calling at this time of night? His legs wobbled slightly underneath him, his frame almost collapsing into the chair, revealing just how worn through he truly was. Sighing softly, his big bright optics were drifting closed for a moment before one hand reached out to activate the screen, yawning a little hoping desperately it wasn't a medical emergency. This was his private comm... not his work one that sat on the nearby table...<p>

"Hello?" The slender little mech asked softly, blinking slightly at the screen, not quite realising who was on the other end for several long moments before swallowing sharply when he realised it was Ratchet. "Sir... I..." Straightening as much as his tired frame would let him, he was staring from behind the blue visor that shielded his eyes and half of his face from view. "What can I do for you?"

"This is a social call." Ratchet sat stiffly in the chair on the other end of the link that spanned the vast spaces between Earth and Cybertron, dark blue optics however took in the appearance of the slender medic, before focusing back on his face. "Did I disturb your rest cycle?"

"No!" Shaking his head almost violently, he was drawing his legs up slightly and leaning towards the screen, clinging to the one familiar thing in his life that he needed right then. "No, not at all. I just got home, no, you didn't disturb me at all, Sir."

"There is no need to call me 'Sir', First Aid." Ratchet commented offhandedly, the Earth-bound medic however was barely able to keep his optics from wandering the snatches of unarmoured frame revealed by the sliding towel. Though he also took in the lines of exhaustion and the strain that had marred the warm curve of that mouth, the way the head tipped slightly as if burdened by something far heavier than should have ever been placed there. "You are if I recall, my superior."

"I... oh..." First Aid was flailing for words, his mouth opening and then closing again, desperately wishing that he could find words, anything to ease the stiffness.

"First Aid." Ratchet's voice softened just a touch, trying to work out what to do... anything to bring a smile to those lips, see the brilliant light glow once more in those fine features. "Do not worry yourself over that." Soothing, quieter, hopeful that something... anything would ease the distress... "I have greatly missed your presence in these past years."

"As have I, you, Ratchet." First Aid whispered the words that he had once read while he had been stationed on Earth, he hummed softly at the thought, gazing at Ratchet for a long. The corner of his lips lifted upwards into a slight smile, just feeling a little more light-sparked and buoyed up by Ratchet's presence, the strong set of that jaw, piercing optics and firm manner. Yet, he had to admit he rather loved the long fingered, large hands that Ratchet had, nimble and agile despite their size. "One moment... I'll just get a blanket..." The towel around him was wet and cool to the touch as he gave Ratchet a small smile, scooting off the chair, the towel catching on the edge of the chair and sliding from his grip without him noticing.

Ratchet was given a rather unexpected view of the slender frame beyond the chair in the sitting room, the older medic felt air catch in his vents, his fuelpump seizing at the sight of that beautiful frame so vulnerable and bare. Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, he was shifting uncomfortable in his chair, First Aid soon returning bundled in an oversized blanket that trailed on the floor behind him. Curling up on the chair, chin propped on a pillow he had snagged from his berth, his pale blue optics flickered behind the visor, belying his exhaustion.

"You look tired." Concern lingered in those dark azure optics, lips pressed together in a moment of worry visible to First Aid. "Do not follow my example in work ethics."

"Mmmh?" The visor was pushed upwards, one slender fist rubbing at an optic, clearly attempting to keep himself awake, the heat of his bath and the voice of the usually grumpy old medic was enough to ease his troubled spark and allow his frame to finally begin to relax and curl up around the pillow clutched in his arms.

"First Aid, return to your berth and recharge." Ratchet ordered, his voice a touch stern, hoping that just once he could sound authoritarian without belittling anyone. "_Now_."

"But... you... called to talk... to me." Big blue optics blinked at Ratchet slowly, lips parting and a glossa flicked out to lick over them, letting out quite an adorable little sigh.

"It can wait til another time."

"But..." First Aid was protesting softly, mouth opening to say something and turned into a yawn, his fingers coming away from his face and allowing Ratchet the first view of the beautiful face that was usually hidden by that visor. "Please don't go." His fingers rubbed at his features again, attempting to brush the sleep out of himself, this was the first time in a very long time since he had spoken to Ratchet on something that resembled a 'social call'. Every time he had wanted to call the mech, he just didn't have the courage to do so, knowing just how busy the other mech was. "Tell me of how things are on Earth." Anything to get the usually quiet mech talking, he craved nothing more than to hear that voice even though he was slowly drifting off into recharge.

"They are as you would expect for 'peaceful' times, there are minor injuries in abundance but nothing quite to challenge the processors." And it was a good thing! Peace and no wounds caused by weapons, except for accidents in the shooting range. It was painfully slow at times, but his presence was still required, Wheeljack still had a habit of blowing himself up occasionally to break the monotony of his work. "Wheeljack continues to demonstrate his ability to lose limbs at an astounding rate."

The slender white mech was suddenly laughing, entire frame shaking from pedes to helm, squirming in his chair and barely being able to contain himself. For some reason that was incredibly funny, the way Ratchet deadpanned it and the fact that during his years with Ratchet he had helped make replacement limbs for Wheeljack before the mech even came to medbay on the Ark since the mech required so many annually.

"I miss being on Earth." First Aid knew it sounded odd, even to himself, his optics dimming as his face was half hidden behind the pillow and his own knee, voice a touched muffled. "I miss... being near you. Everything made sense..."

"Is something troubling you, First Aid?"

"No." Shaking his head, he didn't want anything to spoil this, anything to take away Ratchet's attention. "No... I am just... I miss you... so much..."

Though Ratchet's spark was throbbing, hot and bouncing in his throat at the words he was being offered, the warm look on the other's features when he glanced up at him with those brilliant optics. Only to watch the pretty helm dip slightly and lean against the pillow, optics shuttering and the slender frame slump down into the limpness of recharge. His hand stretched out towards the screen, wishing he could touch the pretty helm, scoop up the sleeping mech and carry him to the berth visible through one of the doorways behind the chair First Aid was curled in.

"First Aid?" Ratchet questioned, hoping to rouse the mech a little, enough to encourage that slender frame to head for the berth instead of ending up sleeping right there. "Aid...?"

The soft sound of systems slipping into recharge mode filled the silence, and the connection stayed open allowing Ratchet the chance to watch the sleeping Autobot on the other end of the link. Turning back to his work, Ratchet was sighing in a moment of contentment, just listening keenly to the slow even thrum of the mech's systems, the soft click and slide of components and shifting muscle cables. Though he couldn't help but let his optics drift to the screen, his spark throbbing painfully as it clenched, this was what he wanted, what was so close... yet so far out of his reach that he doubted he could ever have it. Being told he was missed was one thing, loving him was something completely different.

Ratchet almost jolted out of his armour at the soft knock on the door, his head jerking upwards to gaze at Ultra Magnus, his frame positively rigid as he glanced towards the still active screen off to one side, though he was desperately hoping the City Commander wouldn't see who was on the other end. Shifting in his chair clearly agitated, Ratchet scowled at the calm mech before him, and wondered in that moment if he would ever truly be able to gain all that he had longed for.

And he honestly wondered if he would ever be able to be all that First Aid needed… and if he would ever find his own peace, even in this time of truce with the Decepticons… peace seemed so far away that he couldn't touch it. Though a glance to one side and the open comm line and he desperately hoped in some small part of his spark that they would be able to hold onto it, for the sake of them all and for the sake of…

Love.

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><p><strong>Crazy little story, hope you guys like it.<strong>


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